


Breath and Bones

by Marinawings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Love, Brothers, But Brotherhood Is the Main Thing Here, Danger, Demons, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Helpful Ghost, Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Teensy Bit of Romance, Violence, Whump, fighting evil, hunting things, saving people, season one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-25 00:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20367460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinawings/pseuds/Marinawings
Summary: The Winchester boys are investigating an old mine when things get chaotic. Dean, despite being injured, sticks to his mantra: look after Sammy... Set late in Season One. (Originally posted on ffnet several years ago, but I wanted it here for a variety of reasons.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is 10 years old now! I originally posted it on ffnet, but wanted it here, too, since I am really beginning to like this Hugo Award winning site. :)
> 
> This story is finished! I am planning to post a chapter every few days. Please let me know what you think and if I should delve back into this delightful fandom. I think my writing style has improved some since I first posted, but I still enjoy going back to revisit this story, so I hope you will enjoy it, too!

**Dean**

It's never a good thing when it hurts to breathe.

It's also not so good when you're awake enough, aware enough to realize this. And it still hurts to breathe.

And it's never, ever good when you're trapped in the dark, possibly alone, and oh yeah, it hurts to breathe.

Dean Winchester managed a passably deep breath, winced, groaned, and tried to sit up. For a few seconds, he was convinced he had gone blind or something, but his eyes started to adjust to the dark, and he could soon make out the shape of his hand in front of him. His hand… and nothing else. No one else.

Panic slammed through Dean's body along with the pain. Sam!

"Sammy?" Dean called hoarsely, fighting to ignore the nasty tugging in his chest and the metallic taste in his mouth. "Sam! Where are you?"

His voice bounced back off the walls of the cave, ringing in his ears.

Panting, one hand pressed to the sharpest point of pain in his body-his lower ribs on the right side, Dean stood. Once he was on his feet, the pain exploded through him. He barely managed to stumble to a wall and catch himself before toppling over. Leaning against the cool wall of the cave, he fought to draw oxygen into his lungs. Another attack of panic clawed at his psyche when the air wouldn't come. It just _wouldn't._

_Oh crap… I'm going to die…_

_No, no, no! Not yet! Have to find Sam!_

With a mighty effort, Dean dragged an agonizing breath of air into his body and hollered with everything he had left, "Sam!"

Still no answer.

Dean felt an involuntary sob jolt through his body. Not Sam. Surely the creature hadn't taken Sam…

Pain-inward and outward-doubled him over, and he stood gasping, bent in two, clutching at his fiercely aching ribs. He clenched his teeth, worked his jaw, balled his fists, and willed himself back upright, willed himself to start walking. He had to find Sam.

Dean's shuffling feet kicked something metallic across the cave floor, and he swore. Then he remembered-his gun!

Dean squinted through the dark until his green eyes caught a glimpse of a dull glint. He followed the dim light, reaching toward it, nearly collapsing with relief when his fingers brushed the cold metal of his gun handle. Trying to keep his breathing even, he slid the gun into his jacket and continued his unsteady walk through the cave, trying desperately to remember what had happened.

A cold draft of air struck his face, awakening him, stirring his memory.

_…claws. Teeth. Creature. Glowing eyes. It was coming toward him. He was reloading his gun. And that thing was coming at him way too fast._

_BAM!_

_The creature jerked, spun-spun on Sam, who had shot it, Sam, who had saved his brother's life, Sam, who was standing in front of two very terrified innocent people._

_"No!" Dean shouted. "Get them out of here, Sammy!"_

_"Not without you!" Sam called in reply, firing at the creature again. The thing staggered, went down on one knee._

_By this time, Dean had successfully reloaded his gun. He fired at the creature, and it turned on him-just like he wanted it to do. "Sam-GET THEM OUT OF HERE!" He put all the authority he could muster into his voice, channeled every bit of John Winchester he could marshal._

_Then, suddenly, something happened-something completely and totally unexpected._

_An explosion from somewhere, a flash of light, Sam calling his name, everything shaking-_

_Then something slamming into him, sharp pain in his side, lack of oxygen, blackness…_

Dean gasped at the memory. Something big had went down in the tunnels. Probably something bad. Sam could be in danger!

He had to hurry.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, quickening his pace. Heck, he didn't even know if he was headed in the right direction. But, by God, he was going to keep going until he found his brother-or died trying. He could do no less.

It didn't take long for the faster pace to wind him. Pain bloomed afresh in his side, coupled with a nasty, coppery taste in his mouth. Coughing, Dean bent over, struggling for air, struggling to stay on his feet… He was failing… He was failing Sam…

"Dean!"

Dean's head snapped up, and he ruthlessly swallowed down a cough.

"Dean!"

The call came again, faint, but clear.

He was headed in the right direction.

"I'm coming, Sammy!" Dean cried, leaning heavily against the cave wall and staggering forward and a pace that surprised even himself. Adrenaline surged through him. Determination to find his little brother fueled his strength.

"Dean, what happened?" came Sam's voice, quizzical, anxious, but strong and alive.

"I don't-I don't know," Dean managed in reply. "The-the creature… Did we get it?"

"It's dead, Dean."

"And the people? That Evan kid and that hot Ashley chick?"

"They're okay. They're out."

Relief flooded Dean's soul. He stopped walking, leaned against the wall of the cave, closed his eyes. _We did it… We did it… Ugly bastard's dead… Innocent people are alive… Sammy's alive… He came back for me… That's nice…_ It felt so good to have his eyes closed, to be leaning on something cool and strong…

"Dean, where are you?"

"Right-I'm right here, Sammy," Dean muttered. He forced his eyes opened, shook himself. Ouch. That hurt.

And suddenly, there was Sam, his long, lanky frame silhouetted by some distant light.

Dean grinned. "Sammy!"

"Dean!" Sam rushed toward him.

"Sam, are you-are you okay?" Dean asked quickly, hoping to God that Sam was alright. If anything happened to that kid-

"I'm fine, Dean," said Sam, reaching his brother. "I got out of the way when-" Uh-oh. Sam's voice was changing, lowering. Never a good thing. "Dean, you're hurt."

"You sure you're okay, Sam?" Dean asked, trying to sound firm. His voice wasn't cooperating. The painful lack of oxygen in his lungs probably had something to do with that.

"Dean, I'm _fine_."

Dean smiled again. Sam sounded so agitated. If only it wasn't so dark… But it was funny anyway. Dean knew his brother well enough to imagine the look on his face.

"You, on the other hand-"

"'M fine, too," Dean managed. He patted the wall next to his head. "Just-just testing the strength of the walls down here. They're, uh, they're good and strong."

"Dean-"

"I'm fine, Sammy," Dean grunted, pushing himself away from the wall. Wow. That felt weird. And not too nice. He tried-and failed-to hold back a soft groan at the sharp pain seizing his ribcage. "Just as long-just as long as you're… okay…" Dean frowned, winced, sucked in a sharp, painful breath of air.

"Dean-"

"I'm okay," said Dean breathlessly. His knees gave out then, and he pitched forward.

Sammy caught him, of course, with those big, long arms.

"Dean!"

The panic in Sam's voice almost made Dean smile. _Almost_. Pain, dizziness, lack of breathing-these things combined to make it hard to smile.

"Let's just… get out of here," Dean panted, bracing himself on his brother's arm and finding his feet again.

"Where are you hurt?" Sam asked, brotherly concern lacing his voice.

"We can discuss that later, Dr. Quinn," said Dean shortly, annoyed at being coddled. "Let's just get the-" His words were cut short by an embarrassing whimper as pain blasted through his body.

"Dean!"

Everything was suddenly foggy, painful, weird, and totally devoid of oxygen. "Tell that Ashley chick that she really looks good in hiking boots," said Dean.

"Oh, dude…" Sam gently eased his brother to the cool stone floor of the cave. "Can you breathe?"

"Heh. No." Dean squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth to keep from saying anything else stupid-or making any more telling sounds of pain.

"What happened?" Sam asked, leaning his brother against the wall and reaching behind him for his pack.

"You tell me," Dean wheezed. He was suddenly, annoyingly scared. His body didn't feel right-especially his ribs and his lungs. Not good. "What was that back there?"

"I don't know, Dean," said Sam quietly. "But if you hadn't shot that creature when you did…" His voice trailed off, and Dean could hear him rummaging through the pack. He hoped Sam would pull out a flashlight. The darkness was getting annoying…

And he was fading…

Oh, hell no.

"Sammy," Dean bit out. The pain and weakness and not-breathing-ness were washing over him. He was drowning. "Sammy," he repeated, louder.

"What is it?" asked Sam, turning to him, touching his shoulder.

"Don't-don't let me go," Dean told his brother intensely, clutching the front of Sam's shirt with one final burst of strength.

"Dean!" he heard Sam cry.

Then he was out-like the light Sam had failed to produce.

**Sam**

Panic.

It raced through Sam Winchester's mind and made his body a bundle of jittery nerves. "Dean!" he shouted, gently shaking his brother's shoulder. The panic increased when Dean's head lolled forward. "No, Dean! Don't do this!" Sam softly tapped the side of his brother's face.

Dean didn't respond. Unless, of course, one could count the ragged, shallow breathing noises.

Busted ribs, Sam diagnosed. And possibly a punctured lung. Or two. _Oh, God…Please not two…_

Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had to get Dean out of there-and into a hospital or somewhere equally safe and helpful. Especially if weird things kept happening in this cave.

Gathering his wits, Sam shouldered his pack and slid his arms under his brother-one behind Dean's shoulders and one under his knees. Muscles tensing with the effort, Sam stood, lifting his older, smaller brother in his arms. Dean moaned, his head lolling against Sam's shoulder. Sam felt his stomach clench. Dean wasn't supposed to be weak. Dean was supposed to be the strong one. Dean was supposed to carry him.

"It's alright, man," Sam told his brother soothingly, not even sure that Dean could hear him. "I'm gonna get you out of here."

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean murmured hoarsely, perhaps feverishly.

Sam bit his lip-hard. It took every effort to keep from sobbing right then and there. Here was Dean-battered and broken-and he kept constantly asking if Sam was okay. It was typical, Sam thought. And scary.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam told his brother wryly. "Save your strength."

Dean didn't respond. Sam thought maybe he had passed out again. Maybe he hadn't even awakened at all.

Peering through the darkness, Sam headed toward the light, cursing himself mentally for giving both flashlights to Evan and Ashley. There was a sinister, cold feel to the dark, and it made Sam think about the strange explosion-or whatever it was-that had occurred in the tunnels. It had come as a complete surprise. And Sam still didn't know what had caused it.

All he knew was: the creature was dead, the civilians were saved, and Dean was badly injured and needed him.

Suddenly, there was an echo from behind him, causing Sam to stop in his tracks.

Another echo, this time clearly the echo of a footstep.

Sam tightened his grip on his brother, preparing to take off running full tilt if need be.

Dean stirred in his arms. "Sammy?"

"Dean, it's behind us," Sam said. He could feel a threat lurking in the dark. That didn't feel very good…

"Put me down," Dean muttered restlessly.

"Dean-"

"Sam, I said put me down," Dean insisted through clenched teeth.

Also with clenched teeth, Sam set Dean gently down on his feet, keeping an arm around him to steady him.

Dean swayed, and for a second, Sam thought he might have to throw his older brother over his shoulder and take off running, but Dean managed to find his balance, tossing Sam a grin that was barely visible in the dark-yet clearly cocky. "See? I'm getting better already?" he panted.

"Sure, Dean. You're magic," Sam retorted dryly.

Another footstep echoed through the tunnel.

"Weapons?" Dean rasped.

"I've got a knife in my belt. My gun's in my pack."

"Heh." Dean drew his pistol from his jacket. Sam could see even in the dim light that the elder Winchester's hands were shaking, and he could hear very clearly that Dean's breath was labored and painful.

"Dean, maybe you should sit this one out," Sam suggested.

"Not on your life, Sammy." Dean cocked his gun, looked Sam straight in the eyes.

Sam got it, then. To Dean, this was about Sam's life-it was about protecting it. It always was. "Dean-"

Dean turned and faced the darkness of the cave behind Sam. "Whatever this thing is, bullets might not take it down," he practically choked out. "You saw what it did in the tunnels back there-"

"Yeah, and we didn't see _it_," said Sam, turning to face the same direction as his brother. "We don't know what we're up against, Dean."

"I know," said Dean. He swayed again, free hand going to his right side and pressing there.

"Dean?" Sam placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

Dean jerked away from his touch. "'M fine, Sammy."

"Dean, maybe we should-"

"Run?" asked Dean. He paused to cough into the crook of his arm. Sam didn't like the sound of the cough. It was wet and heavy and oxygen starved. It had to hurt. It hurt to hear it. "I can't run, Sam," Dean continued finally, breathlessly. "Maybe you should go without me, go get help."

Sam rolled his eyes. Not this again. "I'm not leaving you, Dean."

That was when a maniacal laugh rang through the cave, causing both brothers to jump.

Dean aimed his pistol toward the darkness. "What the-?"

"The Winchester boys," came a loud and clear voice. "How very nice to see you!"


	2. Trapped

**Dean**

The fact that the voice sounded human was bad enough.

The fact that the smell of sulfur was wafting through the cave was even worse.

Dean swore. They hadn't been counting on demons. Not this time.

Someone snapped their fingers, and a light came on overhead, one of the old mining lanterns. Dean blinked, eyes stunned momentarily by the brightness, then he grimaced at the sight before him. A tall, thin middle aged man was facing him and Sammy. A man with eyes that were black and shiny like tar.

"Holy water, Sam?" Dean whispered quickly to his brother.

Sam nodded every so slightly. "In my pack."

Dean edged a bit closer to his brother.

The demon-man held up a hand. "I don't think so, Dean. Move away from your brother."

Frustration and anger welled up in Dean, emerging in the form of a muttered curse. Glaring at his enemy, he took one slight step away from Sam.

The demon smiled. "That's it. Thank-you, Dean."

"What do you want from us?" Dean retorted harshly, biting out the words. His side was burning and aching, and it hurt worse with each breath. Talking hurt, too.

"You seem to be in pain, Dean Winchester," said the man, taking a step forward. "I can help you with that." He grinned suddenly, coldly.

"You're not touching him!" Sam shouted, flinging out an arm in front of Dean.

"Easy, Sam," Dean murmured, trying to pull Sam's arm down.

Sam wasn't budging.

"Who said I had to touch him?" asked the demon, cocking his head to one side, the cruel smile plastered to his face. He slowly started to raise his arm.

Dean blinked, swallowed. _This is it. We're finished…_

Then, abruptly, the demon smiled and lowered his arm. "On second thought, I think I'll reconsider relieving you of your suffering, Dean. After all, prisoners can be more valuable than corpses."

Dean felt confidence seep back into his aching bones. "More dangerous, too," he muttered to Sam.

A brief smile crossed Sam's features before the younger Winchester brother called to the demon, "How do you know us?"

"Sam, I would have thought your father would have taught you how powerful we are," said the demon, walking closer and smiling arrogantly. "Some of us can read minds." He stopped walking and clasped his hands in front of him, peering at the Winchesters shrewdly. "But you know that, don't you? What are you doing, Sammy? Stalling for time?"

Sam opened his mouth as if in answer, then frowned and quickly shut it.

"So you know who we are. How 'bout telling us who _you_ are?" Dean demanded, ignoring Sam's sharp glance.

"You can call me Lysander," the demon said with a cordial nod. His eyes narrowed on Dean. "I have some friends who are looking for you."

An unpleasant chill ran up Dean's spine.

"And no, I'm not a mind reader," said Lysander casually, looking at his fingernails. He looked back at the Winchesters and grinned broadly, revealing a set of brilliantly white and even teeth. "I've just heard all about you from my friends." He tilted his head to one side. "And that's why I'm keeping you alive."

Dean didn't like the sound of that. He also didn't like the sound of the word "friends" coming out of a demon's mouth…

"Though it seems, Dean, that you're going to make things a bit hard for me," Lysander continued, taking a few steps closer to the Winchesters. "Always getting into trouble, aren't you? Well, I hope you survive until my friends arrive."

"Dean is going to be fine," Sam bit out at the demon, moving protectively closer to Dean.

Dean tossed Sam a look of pleasant surprise… which quickly turned to a wince and a frown as Dean reflected on how relative the word "fine" was when used by a Winchester… He'd used it in plenty of lies himself-in untruths both intentional and unintentional.

"Why don't both of you boys come with me?" Lysander suggested amiably, motioning behind him. "I know of a nice little room here in the cave where the two of you can wait."

"Wait for what? Our imminent doom?" Dean snapped, holding his right hand tightly against his side. "No thank-you. We don't trust your kind."

For a moment, Lysander seemed ruffled, his eyes narrowing on the elder Winchester. This gave Dean a burst of satisfaction. But the satisfaction didn't last for very long. The smug smile returned to the demon man's face. "We don't trust yours either, hunter. Which is why I want you to go where I tell you to go."

"And if we don't?" Dean demanded.

Lysander sighed heavily, theatrically. "I really don't want to have to waste you."

"Aren't you a sweetheart of a thug?" Dean replied. He planned to add a few more choice words, but his oxygen supply was suddenly cut short by a hacking cough… which also happened to be very painful. He quickly turned from Sam and buried his face in the crook of his arm as his body convulsed with the cough. He didn't want Sam to see or hear anything that might cause the younger Winchester to worry too much. _Don't look at me with those concerned eyes, Sammy. Just don't…_

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Sam. Sam was indeed wearing the concerned eyes.

"What?" Dean choked out roughly.

Sam just shook his head, but the concerned eyes remained.

"So?" Dean sniffed, cleared his throat, managed not to groan when pain pinched violently at his side. "We gonna follow this bastard or what?"

**Sam**

Sam looked at Dean, looked at him long and hard in the yellowish light of the mining lantern overhead. Dean's face was pale, his eyes over-bright. And he kept pressing his hand to his right side. He was hurt, and Sam knew it.

Dean tossed Sam an annoyed frown, and Sam quickly looked away. "Uh, Dean, I don't know that we have any other option," he told his older brother ruefully.

"Crap," Dean muttered gruffly. "I was afraid of that."

"So, boys? Made up your minds yet?" Lysander called, his smooth, smarmy voice echoing through the cave and bouncing around inside Sam's head. As if Sam needed anything else bouncing around in there.

"We're coming with you," Dean replied. "Just hang on a second." He looked back to Sam. "We've gotta think of something. And fast."

"I know. I know," Sam muttered, frowning. He glanced sharply at Dean. "For one thing, we've got to do something about your injuries. What happened to you anyway?"

"Save it. I'm fine." Dean patted Sam's shoulder and started walking toward Lysander. "We'll patch up the ol' bones later, Sammy. Right now we need to be thinking about how to get out of this."

Sam took a deep, tight breath, then started after Dean. He made sure to walk a little behind his brother, just in case Dean's knees decided to buckle anytime soon. Sam wanted fair warning of that. Sometimes his brother's stubbornness was almost too much to bear-especially when that stubbornness put Dean in danger. Sam had a feeling that one day, said hard-headedness would get Dean into a load of trouble, as if it hadn't already…

"Right this way, gentlemen." Lysander started walking, actually having the nerve to turn his back on the Winchesters.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, then looked to Sam's pack in unison.

"He knows we have weapons in my pack, Dean," Sam whispered.

"I know," Dean muttered with a frustrated frown. "But maybe we can-"

"Here we are," Lysander said, suddenly halting his stride.

Sam blinked, surprised that the walk had been so short.

Lysander stepped aside to reveal a narrow opening in the cave wall. "Step inside, if you please."

"If you please," Dean mocked, with a disgusted look on his face. He peered around the demon, then turned to look at Sam with wide eyes. "It's really tight in there."

"Hunters can't be choosers, Dean," said Lysander casually.

Dean raised an eyebrow, but surprisingly made no comeback. Sam took that as an ominous sign of his brother's condition.

The demon's eyes suddenly locked on Sam. Sam swallowed hard, fingers curling tightly around the straps of his pack. "Sam, hand over the bag," Lysander ordered.

Crap. "There are medical supplies in here," Sam said, trying to stay calm. "If you want me to keep Dean alive-"

"Do you think I'm stupid?" the demon snarled, taking a threatening step toward Sam.

"Easy, man… uh, monster." Dean stepped between Lysander and Sam, raising his hands. "Sam's gonna hand over the bag-except for the medical supplies. Isn't that right, Sammy?" Dean turned and caught Sam's eye. There was something in his expression that reassured Sam… probably the cockiness that was disproportionate to the situation.

"Okay. Okay. Here." Sam slid the pack off of his shoulders and started to reach inside it for the medical kit.

"I'll do that," Lysander snapped, suddenly raising his arm.

Sam went flying backward into the cave wall, a rough outcropping jamming into his back right between his shoulder blades. He tried to bite back a cry of pain and shock, but a muffled groan managed to escape his lips… which did exactly what he was trying to avoid.

It infuriated Dean.

Dean swore and took a menacing step toward the demon, fists balled. "Let him go, you ugly-"

Lysander grinned and lifted a hand toward Dean. Dean went sliding sideways, slamming into the cave wall on his right side, his pistol clattering loudly to the cave floor. It scared Sam-badly-when Dean gave a sharp cry of pain. Dean wasn't one to complain.

Keeping the Winchesters pinned to opposite walls, Lysander walked to where Sam's pack sat, then started rummaging through it. Gingerly, the demon removed a flask of holy water, tossing it across the cave. He also proceeded to relieve the pack of knives, guns, books of incantations, and various other objects that were potentially dangerous to creatures of darkness.

Finally, Lysander stood, grasping the bag by its straps. "Here." He tossed it at Sam's feet, released the brothers from the walls, then nodded toward Dean. "Keep him alive, Sam."

Sam quickly snatched up the pack and looked to Dean. "Dean?"

Dean was leaning heavily against the wall, both hands clutching his right side, jaw clenched. "You okay, Sammy?" he managed, his voice breathless and tight with pain.

Of course Dean would ask that. Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm fine, Dean."

"Get in there now," Lysander ordered, pointing jerkily to the opening in the cave wall. All pretense of politeness was gone, leaving behind one very sadistic and highly ticked off demon.

Sam decided to follow orders before anyone (Dean) got hurt again. "Alright. Alright." He made his way swiftly to Dean's side, wincing a bit. His back was probably sporting a nasty bruise by now. "Dean, can you walk?"

"Yes, I can walk," Dean replied sharply, not meeting Sam's eyes. He led the way into the tiny cave room, shooting a fierce glare at Lysander as he went.

Sam followed his brother into the room, not even looking at the demon, for fear of what that might ignite inside him… such as maybe primal rage.

… and Dean was right. This room was minuscule. One of Sam's shoulders brushed against Dean's. The other scraped against the rock wall.

"Stay right here, boys," Lysander ordered with a smirk.

"Well you'd better stay out there," Dean growled in response. "Might be safer for you, you black-eyed bastard."

Lysander laughed coldly. "Oh really? Well to be frank, I'm not intimidated, Dean Winchester-nor am I impressed. I'm a bit disappointed in the two of you. My friends must be prone to exaggeration." Before either brother could reply, the demon snapped his fingers.

A loud scraping sound echoed through the caves, bouncing off the walls of the tiny room-and twisting Sam's stomach into knots.

"Oh no," Sam muttered wearily.

His fears were confirmed as a huge panel of rock slid into place, covering the only opening in the little stone room.

They were trapped.


	3. Medical Kits Rock

**Dean**

So not breathing-definitely not good.

Nasty, smart-mouthed demons-even worse.

Being trapped in a dark little room, having trouble breathing, _and_ being guarded by a demon? Almost hopeless.

Almost.

"Sam," Dean rasped. "Open up the medical kit."

"I'm trying, Dean. I'm trying," Sam replied, his voice laced with panic and irritation.

"There's a clasp right under the antiseptic on the left side," Dean panted, sinking down against the wall, his body tensing against the pain. "Open it up." He heard the click as Sam obeyed. "See that?"

"See what, Dean?" Sam shot back. "It's pitch black in here."

"Heh. Too bad Vin Diesel's not here to save us, huh?" Dean joked with a lopsided grin.

"Dean, what the heck is this?" came Sam's voice through the darkness. Dean could hear him shaking something around, something that made a swishing sound.

"It's holy water, Sam," Dean replied. A sharp pain ripped up his side and through his lungs, and he curled his fingers tightly around his knees, fighting to keep from whimpering. "And there's a silver knife in there somewhere, plus a lock pick, a couple packs of salt, and a lighter."

"You hid weapons in the medical kit?" Sam asked, amusement and incredulity mixed in his voice.

"Actually, it was Dad's idea," Dean told him, grinning slightly. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Definitely," said Sam. His teeth flashed white in the dark. "This means we can get out!"

"Yep." Dean held his breath-not like there was much of it-and shifted his position, bumping up against Sam's leg. When he finally allowed himself to breathe again, his breath hitched in his chest, and an ominous coppery taste filled his mouth. Crap. "Maybe-maybe we should relax for a little bit before we try anything, eh, Sammy?"

"Oh, God, Dean. I'm sorry." Sam was instantly kneeling beside him, rummaging through the medical kit. "I forgot how bad you're hurt."

"How 'bout you, Sammy? Looked like you got slammed against the wall pretty hard back there." The thought of Sam being hurt, of _anything_ bad happening to Sam, sent a pulse of panic through Dean's body.

"I'm alright, Dean," Sam said calmly. "Might have a bruise or two." There was a clicking sound, and light flared suddenly in the small space, illuminating Sam's face, reflecting in his worried eyes. "But I'm not hurt like you."

Dean gritted his teeth, struggled to find some smart answer, some excuse. Nothing was coming. "Okay, so maybe I'm banged up a bit."

"A bit?" Sam's eyebrows raised.

Dean narrowed his eyes on his brother's smug face. "Sam, I'm helping you take down this demon. I feel good enough to do that. So don't give me any crap about me staying here or waiting this one out or anything like that."

Sam looked for a moment as if he would argue.

It was an inconvenient moment for pain. But Dean was beginning to learn that pain was a sadistic psycho with no concern for convenience. Pain clawed at his ribs, and it was too much to ignore. He quickly turned his face away from Sam (probably not quickly enough) and tried to muffle his groan.

Sam's sternness quickly melted away, replaced by brotherly concern. "Dean, where does it hurt?"

"My side. My freakin' side," Dean gasped out. "Right side."

"We're gonna have to move," Sam said with a weary sigh. "I can't reach your right side from over here."

Dean managed a short, breathless laugh. "Not even with those long arms?"

Sam ignored the jibe. "Scoot over this way, Dean, and I'll step over you."

"Great. I have to move again," Dean muttered, wincing and scooting to his left as Sam stepped over his legs.

"I thought you said you felt well enough to fight demons," Sam retorted, settling down at Dean's right.

"I'm thinkin' adrenaline will help me with that one," Dean explained matter-of-factly. "Ugh." He leaned his head back against the cool stone wall, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt Sam pull back the edge of his jacket and start to lift up his shirt. "Dude, your hands are freakin' cold."

"Sorry." Sam's apology was cut short by a sharp intake of breath. "Dean… This is bad, man."

"'S been worse," Dean muttered, flinching as Sam's hand came in contact with his side. Curiosity overcame him, and he glanced down at his side in the flickering glow of the lighter. Oh… crap… His ribcage was splashed with angry blue and purple bruises and more than a few cuts and scrapes. Not a pretty sight. It looked almost as bad as it felt. But Dean decided to play casual. No need to worry Sammy.

"Patch me up, Sammy," Dean said, leaning his head back against the wall. "And while you're at it, tell Scotty to _beam_ me up."

"That would be nice, Dean," Sam remarked dryly. "Too bad transporter rooms haven't been invented yet. Here. Hold this." He passed off the lighter to Dean while he searched through the medical kit. "How's your breathing?"

Dean frowned. "Fine," he said gruffly.

"Fine?" Sam looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Sounds awful."

"Alright, so I feel like crap. Just patch me up and let's get outta here," Dean ordered.

Sam sighed, but obeyed, taking the lighter back from Dean. "This might be kinda cold, so just… chill, okay?"

"Haha. Very funny," Dean muttered dryly. But he was smiling. 

"Just breathe easy, Dean," Sam told him soothingly, wiping something cold against his side.

It stung a bit, and Dean's breath hissed through his teeth. Everything was going all foggy again. _Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. Sammy needs you_.

"Dean? Dean? Stay with me, man." Sam's hand was on his shoulder, gently shaking him.

"I'm fine. I'm fine, Sam." Dean gave Sam a tired smile. "See?" That was when he started coughing again. And couldn't stop. And also couldn't breathe.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "Breathe, Dean!"

Dean gave his brother an "I'm trying, but I can't, so don't yell at me" look as he fought for air… air that wasn't coming. It didn't help that the coughing spasms and gasps were tugging at his side, pulling at his damaged ribs. That hurt. A lot. _Oh God_… Doubling over, he pressed both hands to his side, feeling as if he might be holding them in place. If one of them shifted-

Suddenly, the ground beneath the Winchesters started to shake-violently.

"What-what's happening?" Dean gasped, miraculously managing to suck in some oxygen. He reached out and grabbed hold of Sam's sleeve, fingers tightening convulsively around the fabric.

"I don't know!" Sam cried in reply, gripping Dean's shoulder.

Then, the flame of the lighter went out, and the shuddering of the ground ceased.

"Sam?" Dean coughed out.

Click. Click.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, jerking on his brother's sleeve.

"I can't-I can't get it to light, Dean," Sam replied, his voice shaky. "It's not out of fluid. I swear, it's not-" Sam's voice trailed off.

"Sam?" Dean managed to sit up a bit straighter, ignoring the ache in his side.

"Dean, do you feel that?" Sam responded breathlessly.

"Feel what?" asked Dean hoarsely, frowning and trying to peer through the dark.

"It's gotten… colder in here," Sam practically whispered.

And he was right. Dean shivered involuntarily. The tiny cave room was getting chilly… _Oh hell no_… "Sam, do you think there's a ghost in here?"

"I think so, Dean," said Sam quietly, never loosening his grip on his older brother's shoulder.

"Huh." Dean blinked, shook his head. "So… We just killed a monster in the tunnels. We've got a demon standing guard. And now… There's a ghost in here?"

"Looks like," said Sam.

"Crap," Dean muttered.

"Ditto," Sam replied.

"That's not funny," Dean said with a frown.

"What's not?" Sam asked, confusion in his voice.

"You know… The movie _Ghost_. Ditto."

"Oh yeah." There was a trace of a smile in Sam's voice. "Ditto."

Dean reached into the medical kit and fished around until his fingers brushed paper-a packet of salt. "Come on out, Casper. We're ready for ya," he muttered around the metallic taste in his mouth. He was pretty sure that his last round of coughing had brought up blood. Either something inside him was torn up or his body was just freaking out. Please just be freaking out…

Silence and darkness met Dean's challenge.

Click.

A flame burst into life. The lighter.

Dean and Sam exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"What the crap is going on here?" Dean wondered aloud.

"I don't know," said Sam slowly, "But I think it's time we planned our escape."

**Sam**

"Come on, Dean." Sam gently slid his shoulder under his brother's arm. "On three. One. Two. Three!" With a grunt, Sam stood, lifting Dean with him, Dean whose face was twisted with pain and whose breath was gasping and ragged.

"You okay, man?" Sam asked as he leaned Dean against the wall.

Dean nodded tightly. "Fine." He waved the lighter toward the sealed off entrance to the cave room. "How're we gonna get that thing opened?"

Sam stood akimbo and looked thoughtfully at the slab of rock. The first thought that came to his mind shocked him. It was such a Dean and/or John Winchester thought. _Blow it up_. He laughed a bit at the impossible plan. Blowing up the rock door would kill him and his brother.

"What's so funny?" Dean panted.

Sam turned to look at him, trying not to think of how pale Dean looked, how heavily he was leaning against the wall. "I was just thinking, and…" Sam ran a hand through his thick dark hair, smiling sheepishly. "I kinda found myself thinking like you and Dad."

"Thinking 'bout blowing up that door, Sammy?" Dean asked with a grin.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Heh." Dean's smile softened a bit. "That plan's a bit… suicidal, don't you think?"

"Just a bit," said Sam. "Problem is, I can't think of anything else to do."

"Believe in yourself, Sam," said Dean with a lopsided grin.

"And that's totally going to open this door," Sam replied wryly. He couldn't help but smile a bit himself. Leave it to Dean to find something funny about being trapped in a tiny cave room by a demon… Wait… The demon…

"Sam, you got something?" Dean's voice broke through Sam's reverie.

"Dean, I think I've got a plan," Sam said, excitement rising within him. "And I think you're going to like it."

Dean blinked. "O…kay…"

"It's straight out of the movies," said Sam eagerly. He tossed his brother a grin, then turned and faced the door of the cave room. "Hey! Lysander! Get in here!"

"What are you doing?" Dean hissed.

"Play hurt, Dean," Sam told him quickly.

"Won't take much," said Dean with a grimace. Then, suddenly, he grinned. "I get it. I get it. This is gonna be good." He slid down to the floor, leaning against the wall of the cave, then reached out and closed his fist around the vial of holy water.

"What's the matter?" came Lysander's voice from the other side of the stone slab.

"It's Dean!" Sam called. "He's getting worse!" Smiling at his brother, Sam bent to pick up the salt packets from the medical kit. Elation thrilled him when he also found a folded up piece of paper tucked among the hunters' tools-an exorcism.

"I told you to keep him alive!" Lysander shouted, his voice ringing off the walls of the little room.

"He needs a doctor!" Sam yelled in reply. Which was the truth. He glanced quickly at Dean. His older brother was quietly slumped against the cave wall. Sam wondered how much was an act and how much was him really being hurt…

"Stand back," came Lysander's growl from the other side of the rock.

Sam stepped back, nearly tripping over Dean's feet. "Dean, cover up those hunting tools," he whispered quickly to his brother.

"Already done," Dean replied.

That didn't surprise Sam. Though he acted like it sometimes, Dean was no idiot. And he had to be one of the best hunters out there. Sam flashed his brother a quick smile and was relieved when Dean smiled back.

A sudden grating of stone on stone jerked Sam's attention back toward the door of the little room. Sam took a deep breath and steadied himself, praying frantically that this would all go well for him and Dean. Dean needed a doctor. Dean needed to be out of this place…

"So he's dying, is he?" came Lysander's haughty voice as the stone slab scraped away from the entrance to the room.

"Please," said Sam quickly, affecting deep fear. "You've got to do something."

Lysander glanced around Sam toward Dean. Curiously, Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dean as well. Dean was playing his part admirably, sprawled against the wall, eyes closed, his breathing heavy and labored.

Lysander swore and brushed around Sam, dropping lightly to his knees next to Dean. "Wake up, Winchester!" he snapped at the elder brother, smacking the side of Dean's face with his hand.

Sam winced. He hadn't counted on the demon doing something like that. He hoped Dean would keep his cool…

Lysander looked sharply to Sam. "I might just have to settle for keeping _one_ of you alive," he carped. "Since you do such a pathetic job of looking after each other."

Sam noticed Dean's hand moving and knew that he had to keep Lysander's attention. "Yeah? Well I hope your 'friends' tear you apart for not keeping both of us alive," he taunted, his voice coming out louder than he had expected. He swallowed and took a step back when Lysander got to his feet and stepped toward him. But he knew he had to keep this up, had to give Dean time. "You're the one responsible for Dean's condition. Not me. You should-"

"Silence!" Lysander boomed, raising a threatening hand.

Sam nodded tightly.

"I should break your bones where you stand," Lysander bit out, glaring at the younger Winchester.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you."

The demon's eyes widened, and he spun on his heel.

Behind him stood Dean, grinning smugly and brandishing the vial of holy water. "Touch my brother, and I'm baptizing you."

"You-but you-" Lysander spluttered.

"So maybe I'm even tougher than I look," said Dean, his grin going lopsided. He narrowed his eyes on Lysander. "You disappoint me, Lyse."

Lysander glared at him, his entire body seething with anger. "You're not as clever as you think, hunter junior," he snarled. "Have you forgotten what I can do?" He raised his hand, eyes flickering toward the vial.

"Not so fast," said Sam, stepping toward the demon. He whipped the exorcism out of his pocket and unfolded it with a conspicuous crackling of paper.

Lysander spun on Sam, fear and anger mingled in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Sam shrugged casually. "Well I was about to start exorcising you, but…" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe if you'll show us the way out of here…"

Lysander worked his jaw, frowning, then suddenly, broke into a vividly white smile.

Sam frowned, his stomach clenching. What did the demon have to smile about? It couldn't be anything good for the Winchesters…

"You boys just don't get it, do you?" Lysander asked, looking from Sam to Dean, then back again.

"Don't get what?" Dean demanded hoarsely, raising the vial of holy water.

"How powerful we are," Lysander announced proudly. He clucked his tongue and shook his head. "In a way, I almost feel sorry for you, but…" He sighed theatrically. "Then again, I don't."

Dean looked at Sam, questions in his eyes. Sam tossed him an "I have no clue" look.

Lysander laughed, then, and the echo of his laugh rang off the cave walls, threatening to give Sam a headache. "Poor, pitiful human boys. Don't you get it?"

"Get what!?" Dean snapped impatiently, taking a step closer to the demon. He winced very slightly with the movement, but Sam caught it, and his throat tightened.

"I'm not your run-of-the-mill, black-eyed grunt," Lysander told him cheerfully. "I'm so much more. And now-" He slanted his head to the side, a beatific look on his rather ordinary, clean-cut features. "Now I'm not alone."

"Sam…" Dean's voice had a cautioning tone, laced with intense concern.

Sam glanced over his shoulder through the opening, peering into the dimly lit tunnel. "I don't see anyone else!" he reported quickly.

"He could be bluffing," said Dean, nodding toward Lysander.

"Or maybe he's not," Sam replied, eyes wide. The situation was getting out of hand. Dean was hurt and trying to hide it, and this demon was proving to be more trouble than Sam had thought. And oh yeah, there might be more where it came from.

"What are you going to do, Sammy boy?" asked Lysander venomously. "No pressure."

Sam looked down at the exorcism in his hands, looked at Dean, then glanced back into the tunnel. He had no idea what to do. A heavy thudding sound drew his attention back into the room. As soon as he turned, he saw Lysander slumped on the floor, with Dean standing over him, grinning.

"Dean, what did you do?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Put the George Foreman on him," Dean replied proudly.


End file.
